


On A Park Bench in Regent’s Park

by JennLynn77



Series: Right As Rain [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, Grieving John, Grieving Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock and John do not die!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77





	On A Park Bench in Regent’s Park

**On A Park Bench in Regent’s Park**

**28, March 2023**

 

“Molly, could you pass me the bone saw?”

 

“Sure, Sherlock. Let me bin my gloves and I’ll be right over there.” Molly shut down the centrifuge for her lunch break and walked over towards the table were the bone saw was laying. As she approached, John entered the room.

 

“Oh! Hello, John! How are you?”

 

“I’m all right, Molly. How are you doing?” They chatted for a few minutes as Sherlock peered through his eyelashes at the two of them. John should be at home right now. Suspicion arose, but it also felt a bit foreboding. Something didn’t feel right in the room as soon as John stepped inside it.

 

“Hi, love! Are you almost finished here? I decided I wanted to take you for lunch before we go pick up Rosie from school.”

 

“I have one more thing to do here, if that’s all right?”

 

“Could it, maybe. Wait? Is that pertaining to a case or one of your experiments?”

 

“Just some of my own personal research. Nothing that can’t wait, I suppose.” Sherlock's voice betrayed him a bit. He was trying to press down the cold dread that crept up his spine. His instincts were almost never wrong.

 

“Molly? Would you mind terribly?” He waved his hand in the general direction of the mess he’d created on one of the examination tables. “My husband is summoning me, and I can’t refuse him.”

 

“I can save it for you if you’d like! Just slide Mrs. O’Reilly back into a slab. She’ll keep for you for whenever you can make it back.”

 

“Thanks, Molly! I want to get a good meal into Sherlock before we pick up Rosie in a few hours.”

 

“I’ll see you both soon, I hope! Give Rosie a kiss from her God-mum!”

 

Molly walked to the exam table and started pushing it towards the rows of slabs and Sherlock and John took their leave. They took a cab in relative silence. Suddenly, with zero provocation, John reached for Sherlock’s hand across the seat and brought his hand to his mouth and kissed his palm before winding their fingers together and clutching it tightly. Sherlock turned to look at John who had turned his own head towards his window without saying a word. They entered Angelo’s and sat at their usual table after Angelo himself shooed a pair of guests to another table when they’d arrived. As always, Angelo brought them a candle and their meal was on the house. John and Sherlock's conversation was shallow. John’s eyes never holding Sherlock's for more than a few seconds. He was keeping something from Sherlock.

 

“John? What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing, sweetheart. I just wanted to have a nice lunch with you and maybe walk off some calories in the park.”

 

“John. It’s a bit cold for that.”

 

“Would you mind? I’d just like to go for a walk with you. Hold your hand and all that mushy stuff you hate.” John smiled. It was almost believable.

 

Sherlock agreed, but with great hesitation.

 

They arrived at the park, hands held, with John guiding their procession a bit. They settled on a secluded bench and relieved their tired feet. After ten minutes, John spoke:

 

“Sherlock. You were right earlier. There is something wrong. I just wanted to have one more afternoon with you before I told you.”

 

Sherlock turned to face John on the bench.

 

“I thought it was odd that Mrs. Hudson didn’t bring up our morning tea this morning, so I went to check on her after I dropped Rosie at school...” Sherlock was already shaking his head no, and tears were threatening to fall. Always the detective; always deducing.

 

“I knocked a few times and called out to her, but there was no answer. Naturally, I was even more worried after that, so I picked her door lock. I walked through the flat, but she never responded. I could hear BBC News on the radio in her bedroom. Her alarm clock was going off. But it was 9:45 in the morning. Her alarm was normally set for 7:00. I raced to her bedroom door and knocked, hoping she was lounging about, having a lie in, and she’d yell at me for seeing her in her nightie. But she was. Just lying in bed. Duvet pulled to her shoulders. Her lips were blue, Sherlock. Her lips were blue. I ran across her bedroom and took her pulse, but she was gone. I called 999 and asked for Greg. We went with the ambulance that took her to Bart’s. Molly doesn’t know yet. Greg was going to tell her when he met her for lunch. Someone else will take care of her there. Molly wouldn’t be able to be professional. I know I wasn’t able to be.” John reached for Sherlock's hand and grabbed it hard.

 

“I wanted to have one more bit of time with you before everything changed. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to hide it better. I wanted to keep it from you as long as I could, but we need to talk about it first. We need to discuss how we’re going to tell Rosie.”

 

“John. I need a moment, if that’s all right.”

 

“Sure, Sherlock, whatever you need. I’ll be right here.”

 

“I know. And here’s where I want to be.” He lunged for John and John caught him, as he always did. They embraced and cried and sobbed and struggled for breath and held each other through all of it, as they always did. When they were able to, Sherlock spoke first:

 

“Did I ever tell you that Mrs. Hudson is partially responsible for us meeting?”

 

“How could that be?”

 

“While we were in Florida, while her husband’s trial was winding down, she got me through a danger night. She’d convinced me to play cards with her while she plied me with tea. She got her sister to send her tea in the post. American tea is rubbish. I’d been away from London for a few years, and was, at the time, unable to hide my homesickness for London from her. We went from two people from the same country who accidentally found each other in a foreign country, to an almost Mother and Son relationship. She watched over me there, kept a weathered eye if you will. She learned to see when a storm was rising up in me. And she knew that tea helped keep it at bay. I think that’s why she continued to ply me with it upon our return to London. Maybe she knew it was okay for her to leave me to you now.”

 

Sherlock looked at John’s face for the first time since John told him. John smiled through his own tears and put his hands around Sherlock’s face.

 

“She knew about us. She saw it on the steps of Baker Street before we even entered the house together. She knew. She must’ve seen it in your eyes. She knew we’d end up ‘us’ eventually. Admittedly, it took us longer than I think she’d have liked, but at least she got to see it. She got to have us, and Rosie and Molly and Lestrade to love and to love her in return. You did so well, saving her from her husband and bringing her back here. You repaid her and gave her so much in return. I’m so glad she was able to see us get married.”

 

“I’m very happy that she was able to see me become a father. It was an ability she’d always seen in me when I could never visualise it myself. We made her a grandmother, John. That’s pretty great, right?”

 

“It’s amazing, Sherlock.” John’s thumbs tracked across Sherlock's cheeks in a soothing gesture.

 

“I wish we’d been there with her. To hold her hand. As she died. She was all alone in her flat.”

 

“I’ll hold your hand as you die. You won’t be alone, Sherlock. I promise you that.”

 

“She gave us so much, too.” A sob escaped Sherlock's throat and hitched his breath. “How are we going to go back to the house now? What do we tell Rosie? How do you tell a six year old her last grandparent is gone?”

 

“It’s going to be difficult. I’d like us to do some reading at home before we sit her down. I’m not a child psychology specialist, but I’m sure we’ll find some solid advice online. She knows death happens. She’s read fairy tale stories and she’s seen a few cartoons where characters die. I don’t know if she really understands what death means. But, we’ll be there to help her through it. Answer her questions the best we can. Let our other friends hug her and show her love. And you and I will love her just a little bit harder to make up for our loss.”

 

With that, Sherlock slid across the bench and laid his head on John’s shoulder. John tilted his head to touch his husband’s and they sat there together, holding hands as they watched the ducks skim across the pond in the distance.


End file.
